


The Survivability Thesis

by the_wordbutler



Series: Motion Practice [10]
Category: Avengers (Comics), Young Avengers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Group Therapy, Teenagers, a lot of swearing, motion practice universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2013-04-15
Packaged: 2017-12-08 13:15:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_wordbutler/pseuds/the_wordbutler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’re all made of the same stuff, and they’re all the toughest people she knows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Survivability Thesis

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place in January 2013 within the Motion Practice universe.
> 
> Thanks as always to Jen and saranoh.

Teddy arrives first, because transport from the shelter is either always fifteen minutes early or fifteen minutes late, and she’s yelled at them enough times that they now err on the side of caution.

“Snickerdoodles?” he asks, eyeing the table of treats. Gratitude flickers across his expression. Teddy’s one of those teenagers who could probably eat his weight in carbohydrates every day and still be hungry, but the shelter’s pretty strict about mealtimes. And why wouldn’t they be? They handle enough hoarding behavior and theft from the kids who’re placed there. 

He’s two cookies in before he pauses. “You’re the best, Jessica,” he declares, and grabs a few more before he drops into one of the metal chairs.

 

==

 

“I hate these fucking cookies,” Tommy complains. The officer who brought him in raises his eyebrows, and Tommy rolls his eyes. “Do we have to do this every week?” he demands, throwing out his hands. “I curse, you look at me like that means I’m gonna flip out and go on a killing spree, and we have a staring contest about it?”

The officer’s only been at the juvenile center for a few months, and he and Tommy have an almost co-dependent hatred of one another. As it stands, the officer crosses his arms over his chest, staring Tommy down, and Tommy stares back. When Tommy finally looks away, it’s to nab a soda off the table.

“Next thing, he’s gonna think I can kill people with a soda tab,” he mutters as he sits down next to Teddy.

Teddy glances over. “Can you?”

Tommy’s grin is slow and vicious. “Wanna find out?”

 

==

 

“And you’ll be done at the normal time?”

Eli grits his teeth to keep himself from scowling. “Yeah, Grandma.”

“And if you get out early, you’ll call?”

“We never get out early,” Tommy points out. Eli glances over his grandmother’s shoulder to glare daggers in his direction, but he just shrugs. “We don’t,” he repeats, swigging from his second soda.

“Eli,” Mrs. Bradley repeats.

“Yes, Grandma,” Eli replies obediently.

“I just don’t want you riding home with strangers, you know that I wo—”

“Grandma,” Eli interrupts. His tone’s tight, barely controlled, and his jaw flexes as he looks down at her. “If we get out early—”

“And we won’t,” Tommy says again. Teddy elbows him.

“—I’ll make sure I call. And there’s no way Miss Jones’d let me leave with some random person.” Mrs. Bradley’s attention slides across the room for a moment, her lips pursed into a small frown. “But it’s gonna be the same as every other week, I promise.”

She hesitates for a moment and then nods. “Okay,” she agrees. Eli forces a smile as she kisses him on the cheek before leaving.

Tommy mimes a whip-crack, sound effects and all. “Dude,” Teddy points out as Eli flips them both off, “that’s his grandma.”

“Still whipped,” Tommy argues.

Eli sits across the circle from them and says absolutely nothing.

 

==

 

“I don’t know if Nathaniel’s coming, and I don’t want to talk about it,” Cassie declares as she throws herself into a chair.

“I thought you were still with Jonas,” Teddy says. It’s clear he’s not thought about it, because Cassie’s glance across the circle is murderous.

“Aren’t they pretty much the same person?” Tommy asks. Teddy and Eli both shoot him dirty looks. He holds up his hands. “What? Half-hot nerd boys? I mean, hell, them plus Teddy’s boyfriend and you could have a—”

He pauses and looks at his fingers.

“It’s really sad that you can’t count to five off the top of your head,” Cassie informs him. She’s slouched in her chair, arms crossed over her red-and-black bomber jacket. Her eyes are bloodshot and there are dark circles under them, but she’s not currently crying.

“Maybe I was trying to decide whether they’d want your sorry tits in there at all, given—”

Tommy glances away from Cassie’s barely-contained rage. He blanches for a moment, then closes his mouth and looks at the floor. “Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Sorry.”

Cassie stares at the floor, too.

 

==

 

America’s ranting into her phone in rapid-fire Spanish when she bursts in. She ignores the circle and everyone in it to walk over to the snack table. When she picks up a cookie, the ranting only becomes more frantic.

It builds like a trip up a roller coaster until it explodes in an anguished sound. The cookie crumbles in her grip, and after she pulls the phone away from her ear, she glares at it before throwing it at the nearest wall.

The plastic crunches as it hits the floor.

It is the fourth cheap pre-paid cell phone she’s broken in as many months.

She stalks across to the circle and throws herself at the chair between Eli and Cassie. Everyone stares.

“What?” she demands.

“Nothing,” Teddy says, and everyone nods in agreement.

 

==

 

Nathaniel makes absolutely no eye contact with anyone as he sinks into the seat on the other side of Teddy. 

Cassie snorts and tosses her head.

Neither says a word.

 

==

 

“I just wish she’d pretend like she trusted me,” Eli admits, shrugging. “I don’t even care if she _really_ doesn’t, if it’s all just an act. I care that she won’t even fake it.”

“There are worse things,” Nathaniel says quietly.

“Worse than having a crazy grandma who’s afraid you’ll get jumped when you cross the street?” Eli challenges. “Name _one_.”

“Having nobody worry.” When Nathaniel looks up, he locks eyes with Eli. Eli purses his lips. “That’s worse.”

They stare at each other for a few seconds before Eli glances down at his soda. “Yeah, well,” he replies, shrugging slightly. “Crazy grandma at least comes in second.”

 

==

 

“I appreciate that he’s trying, I do,” Teddy murmurs, dragging a hand through his hair, “it’s just—”

“That you don’t want ready access to sex?” America asks. Everyone glances at her. “Hey, look, you all were thinking it, I just came out and _said_ it.”

“Kinda like Teddy came out the first week here,” Tommy comments, and Teddy rolls his eyes as he elbows him.

But then the circle’s quiet again, all eyes on Teddy. He plays with one of his earrings before he drops his hands to his lap. “The last thing I want,” he says finally, “is for his parents to try taking me in and it end up like the last three foster homes.” He shakes his head. “And plus, what if something happens? What if we break up, or—”

“Sorry, do you actually think you and Mister Right aren’t going to get married and adopt a bunch of black babies together?” Tommy interrupts. “Really?”

Eli rolls his eyes. “Don’t be a racist dick.”

“Hey, how is them adopting black babies racist? They can’t make them on their own, so I figure—”

“I’m not planning to break up with him,” Teddy puts in. He holds up his hands before an argument breaks out. “Things happen sometimes, you know?”

“You can’t always predict breakups,” Nathaniel agrees, nodding.

Cassie presses her lips into a tight line. “No, you can’t,” she echoes.

 

==

 

“The moms are just bein’ _bitches_ ,” America grouses, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s like they don’t listen to reason no more, they just wanna make my life a living hell.”

Tommy snorts. “Big surprise comin’ from a couple of d—”

“You finish that sentence,” America threatens, “and I’ll finish you.”

There’s a ten-second stand-off, Tommy with his shoulders squared and America staring him down, before he finally rolls his eyes. “You aren’t worth another couple weeks in solitary,” he decides.

“You aren’t worth me fucking up my nails,” America sneers back. She flinches when she realizes she’s being watched. “Sorry, Miss J. Anyway,” she presses, tossing her loose curls as she shakes her head. “I get that they’re worried about me and everything, but what do they think I’m gonna do? Shoot myself full of something ‘cause it’s been a year since my dad offed himself?”

“Anniversaries are hard,” Cassie points out. It’s soft and kind, but then, Cassie’s tip-toeing toward the anniversary of her own father’s death, herself. 

America rolls her eyes. “Kinda made of sterner stuff than you, champ.”

“I think we’re all made of the same stuff,” Teddy says quietly, and America slumps back in her chair.

 

==

 

“My mom keeps saying she sent me to the ‘survivors’ group for a reason,” Cassie says quietly. She picks at her fingernails. “I mean, I’m ninety-nine percent sure that her reason’s the fact I’ve been kicked out of five other therapy groups—”

“Tell me about it,” America chimes in before swigging from her water bottle.

“—but she keeps trying to make it out to be bigger than that.”

“You’ve been here a year,” Nathaniel notes. He’s nearly murmuring.

Cassie shrugs. “Because you guys aren’t tools like everyone in the other groups I’ve been too,” she replies. She hazards a single glance in Nathaniel’s direction. “Mostly,” she amends, and Nathaniel actually cracks a smile.

“Remember what Jessica said when you first started?” Teddy asks. Cassie’s attention flicks over to him. He stops sucking cinnamon sugar off his thumb to smile. “We’re survivors because we’ve been through awful stuff. We’re not just group therapy—”

“Because group therapy is fucking awful,” Tommy mutters.

“—but a group of people who kind of get each other.”

“But only kinda,” Eli stresses, “‘cause I’m not sure I want to ‘get’ _all_ of you.”

Tommy flips him off, and Cassie, for some reason, laughs.

“You love us,” she says.

Eli snorts. “Never,” he retorts, but he smiles.

 

==

 

“Where’s Uptown Girl?” Tommy asks as they all start to rise from the circle. 

Teddy stops himself from taking the last two cookies and glances over. “You mean Kate?”

“That her name? Because all I remember about her is a nice ass and—”

“Someday, a girl is gonna haul off and punch you in your ugly fucking face, and you’ll be the only one to blame,” America cuts in. She’s trying to reassemble the broken pieces of her phone, but with only limited success. She drops it into the garbage with a shake of her head. “I just hope I get to be that girl.”

“I’m faster than you,” Tommy reminds her.

America raises an eyebrow. “Speed can’t save you forever.”

“Good to know you only care about the girls in this group as eye candy,” Cassie comments. She steps away from where she’s spent the last few minutes talking quietly with Nathaniel. Tommy scoffs. “But where is Kate, anyway?”

“It’s hard being new,” Teddy offers.

“Yeah, and she’s probably not here kicking and screaming ‘cause of overprotective grandparents,” Eli says. He snags a soda for the road.

“Or by court order.” Tommy and Teddy say it _almost_ in unison, and then argue over who owes the other a Coke.

America rolls her eyes. “White people,” she mutters.

“Tell me about it,” Cassie replies, and they look at one another before laughing.

 

==

 

“I could call your dad and tell him you skipped, you know.”

It’s frigid and cold outside St. Andrew’s Church and Parochial School, a bitter January night that threatens snow. Even with her collar turned up against the wind, it sneaks fingers under her sweater and against her skin. She shivers, her teeth chattering, and watches the shadow that’s perched on the edge of the six-foot concrete retaining wall.

“I missed the bus.”

“Bullshit.”

“Prove it.”

Kate drops gracefully onto the ground and then brushes off her jeans. She’s wearing a thick ski coat and fashionable boots, but in the dim yellow bulb of the street lights, she just looks tired. “I had things to do,” she says, shoving her hands in her pockets.

“Things more important than group?”

“Don’t call it group. It’s therapy.”

“Your dad thinks you need therapy.”

“My dad’s an asshole.”

“Assholes can still think their daughters need therapy.”

Kate huffs and rolls her eyes. Her long hair flutters in a winter breeze, but then she’s staring at the sidewalk. They stand in silence, a few cars rolling by.

“Look,” she says, and Kate lifts her head just enough to glance over. “I can’t force you to show up. If you do show up? I can’t force you to participate. But your dad called my agency for help—”

“My dad’s such a jackass,” Kate groans.

“—and I _do_ have to tell him if you stop coming.” She shrugs slightly. “And I can’t tell him that this isn’t right for you until you show up enough for me to figure that out.”

“Like you’d say that,” Kate challenges.

“You don’t know I won’t.”

“You’re a social worker. Social workers are _all_ the same, they all want to pick your head apart until your brain’s all over the floor.” When she raises an eyebrow, Kate looks out at the street. “I saw a lot of therapists and social workers after my mom died.”

“I bet you never saw one like me.”

“Miss Jones, no offense or anything, but I’m sure I have.”

“No,” she presses. When Kate keeps staring out at the empty road instead of glancing over, she walks over and physically places herself in Kate’s line of sight. Kate rolls her eyes. “I didn’t become a social worker because I was some bored nineteen-year-old who needed to declare a major. I do this because I actually care about it, and because I’ve been there.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Yeah, it is _right_.” She points a finger in Kate’s direction. “I was older than you were, but I’ve been through what you’re going through.”

“No, you—”

“Yes, Kate, I _have_.”

They stare at one another for a long moment, Kate’s expression tumbling from confusion to uncertainty and then clarity. She presses her lips into a tight line, her jaw working, and then looks away. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she says, and Kate lifts her eyes for a split second. “Just show up. I don’t call it the Survivors Group because I need a catchy name to go with the Whiny Baby Group and the Anger Management All-Stars.” Kate snorts a laugh and rolls her eyes. “I call it like I see it.”

“And that’s what?”

“That you all are some of the toughest people I know.” It’s always _people_ , never _kids_. “Show up,” she tells Kate.

“I—”

“Show up,” she repeats, and walks away.

 

==

 

Transport from the shelter is always either fifteen minutes early or fifteen minutes late, but Kate Bishop beats Teddy to group by three minutes.

“Okay, you could not have known about my lemon bar thing,” Kate accuses. She looks over her shoulder. “Right?”

“Maybe,” Jessica Jones replies, and smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> At least some of the Young Avengers will reappear in later Motion Practice Universe stories.
> 
> They are as follows:
> 
>  
> 
> [Teddy Altman](http://marvel.wikia.com/Dorrek_VIII_\(Earth-616\))  
> [Tommy Shepherd](http://marvel.wikia.com/Thomas_Shepherd_\(Earth-616\))  
> [Eli Bradley](http://marvel.wikia.com/Elijah_Bradley_\(Earth-616\))  
> [Cassie Lang](http://marvel.wikia.com/Cassandra_Lang_\(Earth-616\))  
> [America Chavez](http://marvel.wikia.com/America_Chavez_\(Earth-616\))  
> [Nathaniel Richards](http://marvel.wikia.com/Nathaniel_Richards_\(Iron_Lad\)_\(Earth-6311\))  
> [Kate Bishop](http://marvel.wikia.com/Katherine_Bishop_\(Earth-616\))
> 
>  
> 
> If you want more information about Jessica Jones's relationship with the Young Avengers, I suggest you read the first Young Avengers run. Lord, do I love these kids.


End file.
